by Bess McBride
“I’d be interested to hear it sometime while I’m here.”
Phoebe, now better able to focus than when she first arrived, studied Mattie’s empire-waisted silk gown of brown. The colors accented the brown specks in her hazel eyes. Small ballet-like slippers peeped out from beneath her skirt. Mattie’s auburn hair was pulled up behind her head into a chignon, with curls allowed to escape around her forehead and cheeks.
“While you’re here,” Mattie repeated. “What are your thoughts on that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I can’t really say ‘what are your plans,’ because I don’t know if you really have control over your future right now, but what are your expectations? I could probably sit here and tell you my experiences, what I’ve learned and haven’t learned about living here, whether I had to stay here, if I could return, but it would probably be easier if you told me what you want to see happen.”
Phoebe closed her eyes and tried to imagine her apartment in New York. She bit her lips as she thought of Annie’s frantic search for her.
“My cousin, who was staying in the apartment for a few days, will call the police. She’ll worry about what happened to me.”
Mattie nodded. “Yep, I’ll bet she does.”
“I feel bad about that.”
“I know. I had a friend from work who called the police the first time I disappeared, but I was able to leave her a message the second time I went back, so I’m hoping she didn’t that time.”
Phoebe nodded. “About this going back thing...” She waited hopefully.
Mattie grimaced. “It was an accident, and one I didn’t want. I was already in love with William by then, and although I swore I had to go back—couldn’t live in the 1800s—when I was accidentally transported forward in time, all I wanted was to return to be with William. Luckily, I managed to get back.”
“So, there’s a possibility of going back and forth?”
“Well, yeah, you can see that it happened to Reggie. I wouldn’t risk it again, of course, because I have a child now, a toddler. There’s no way I would go back. William and I actually make wishes every full moon that we can stay together forever...just to make sure.” Mattie smiled softly for a moment then sobered.
“But what about you? Would you be interested in staying in the nineteenth century? You have to give up a lot.”
Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t know, Mattie.”
“What about Reggie? What do you think of him? He was such a cute kid, but I can see that he’s grown up a lot in the past year or so. I hadn’t noticed before.”
“Reggie is...great! He’s wonderful. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m half in love with him now, and I’ve only known him for a couple of days.”
“I know what you mean. Same thing happened to me.” Mattie grinned and patted Phoebe’s hand. “Well, I don’t know if this helps or hurts, but I think he’s more than half in love with you. They way he looks at you reminds me of the way William looked at me, the way he still does—that kind of steady, face-searching, loving gaze that feels like they’re reaching into your heart and pulling on it.”
“The ole tugging at your heart trick?” Phoebe smiled tenderly.
“That’s the one. I don’t know how these Georgian guys do it. Not to mention they are so handsome and dashing in their outfits.”
“Love the pantaloons,” Phoebe whispered.
“Oh, yes!” Mattie said. “And the cutaway coats? The way they broaden the shoulders and narrow at the waist?”
“Reggie has the broadest shoulders...ever.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Mattie said with a chuckle. “All grown up now.”
“He used to have a crush on you, didn’t he?” Phoebe’s cheeks heated.
“I don’t think so,” Mattie said. “Why would you say that?”
“There’s something in his voice when he mentions you.”
Mattie grimaced. “Oh, I remember now. Yeah, I think there was this small infatuation when I first showed up. But he was young then. Two years has really matured him. He never looked at me the way he looks at you.”
“I don’t know how I could do without him. His original plan was to ask if I could stay with you—because you’re American—and he would stay at his house. You probably heard me in the garden begging him to not to leave me.”
“I did,” Mattie said with a nod. “And I know how you feel. Here’s what I think about this moon time travel thing. I think that we’ve traveled in time to be with the one we love, or the one we were meant to love. That they happen to live in another century is inconvenient but not insurmountable. In fact, it’s probably part of the reason we love them. So, whatever you decide—whether you’re going to try to return or stay—keep that in mind. I don’t think it’s not random.”
Phoebe rubbed her temples. “No, it doesn’t feel random to me either. It feels like...oh, gosh, can’t believe I’m going to say this...destiny.”
“Destiny. Yes, I would agree,” Mattie nodded. “Well, listen, I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning. The baby gets me up early.”
“A baby,” Phoebe murmured.
“Yup, my own Georgian baby. She’ll grow up in the Victorian era, poor thing. Lots of corsets.”
“Not with you as her mother, I’m sure.”
“You’re right about that!” Mattie laughed. “Oh, that reminds me. I’d better get you something to sleep in. I’ll be right back.” Mattie sailed out of the room and returned within a minute.
“Here you go.” She handed Phoebe a soft white cotton garment. “No nylon or cotton jammies yet. By the way, there’s a bathroom through that doorway. Flushing toilet. Oh, you know that’s the first thing I got done when I decided to stay!” Her face softened. “Well, William did it for me. I love that man!”
Mattie turned and headed for the door. “See you in the morning, Phoebe. Sleep well, and don’t worry about anything. Everything will turn out the way it should. I really believe that.”
“Night,” Phoebe called out to the closing door. She turned away and laid the nightgown out on the bed. A visit to the bathroom revealed a cozy room with a white porcelain claw foot tub, a sink, and a toilet, just as Mattie had said. Phoebe used the facilities and washed her face and hands with the lavender-scented soap. She had just returned to the bedroom when she heard a soft tap on the door. She opened the door to find Reggie on the other side.
“Are you well, Phoebe? I could not close my eyes until I discovered how you fared.”
Phoebe, her heart racing unexpectedly, stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in,” she said.
Reggie laced his hands behind his back and straightened. “I cannot. It is not proper, and I am returned to England. Neither do I wish to offend our hosts with such improprieties.”
Phoebe cocked her head and studied him. Though he still wore his long-sleeved shirt, jeans and sneakers, he had somehow recaptured the Georgian-era essence.
“I understand,” she said with disappointment. “I’m fine. Talking to Mattie has been like talking to someone from home. And you’re here.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
Reggie’s cheeks bronzed, and he looked down at the floor before raising his eyes again to her face. “We have not been apart for more than a few moments during the last two days. I feel the loss of your company acutely.”
“Me too, Reggie.” Phoebe looked over her shoulder. “I see a bench at the foot of the bed if you change your mind.”
Reggie flashed a bright smile. “Would that I could, Miss Warner. Sleep well. You know where my room is if you need aught during the night.”
Phoebe nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Reggie.”
He bowed, still a dashing gesture even in his modern day clothing.
She watched him traverse the hallway to his room, and she waved as he looked back over his shoulder. Closing the door, she crossed over to the bed and dropped onto it. The mattress was surprisingly comfortable, and
she relaxed into it.
The late Georgian era, Reggie, Mattie, William Sinclair, green velvet curtains, a horse named Sebastian. The words swirled around in her mind like a chant as she drifted off to sleep. The last word she remembered was Reggie.
****
“Phoebe?”
A voice caught her attention, followed by a touch on her shoulder. Phoebe opened her eyes with difficulty, feeling as if she’d been drugged.
Mattie stood by the bed, looking down on her.
“You didn’t even make it into bed, did you?”
Phoebe shook her head and yawned. “No, I must have fallen asleep the minute I laid down. Very comfortable bed. My compliments to the hostess.”
Mattie laughed.
“I hope you were warm enough. Central heating is next on my list of things to figure out. No chance you brought the schematics for such a plan, did you?”
Phoebe shook her head. “No, sorry. I should have thought of that.” She smiled, sat up, and scooted to the edge of the bed.
“Here are some clothes for you,” Mattie said. “I don’t mind if you traipse about in your jeans and T-shirt all day, but the servants might have a heart attack, and I think Reggie’s father is coming this morning. William already sent a note over to their house and got a very flustered response.”
Phoebe jumped up. “Oh! Well, I’d better get dressed then.” She paused. “Unless... Well, he doesn’t have to even know I’m here, does he?”
Mattie shook her head. “Don’t bother. You can’t hide in England in the 1800s. He’ll know you’re here. And it’s possible that Reggie will want to introduce you. I haven’t seen him yet this morning. William was looking for some clothes for him as his haven’t arrived yet. Luckily, they’re both tall.”
“Okay.” Phoebe took the clothing Mattie handed her and eyed a beautiful lawn gown of rose. “This is gorgeous!”
“I think it will look nice on you. If you’re anything like me, you’ll be a bit bashful about me staying, but you will probably need help getting dressed. Better me than a maid, I’m thinking.”
“Oh, sure!” Phoebe said. “Let me just wash my face. Great bathroom, by the way!” she called over her shoulder. She washed and returned to the bedroom where Mattie had laid out several other articles of clothing in addition to the dress.
“You’ll have to get used to drawers because they don’t have any underwear here, but I’ve modified mine so that they don’t have the opening between the legs. I couldn’t deal with that.” She handed the bloomers to Phoebe. “And here are some stays, stockings, a garter to hold them up, a chemise, and some petticoats. I don’t know if you want to wear the stays. They’re not really like corsets, but they do ‘lift and separate’ as my mother used to say. I’ve had to start wearing them because I’m a little bit bigger on top than before I had the baby.”
“If you wear them, I will.” Phoebe said with a smile. “Okay, so which order do these go on?”
“The pantaloons, the garters, stockings, chemise, stays, petticoats, and dress. I’ll tie anything that needs tying.”
Over the next half hour, Mattie helped Phoebe into the various garments—thick white stockings held up by a satin garter, which hung from her waist, a chemise that felt like a soft white cotton dress and satin stays, which served as some sort of bra. Mattie tied Phoebe’s petticoats at the back of the waist and helped her slip into the lovely morning gown. They studied Phoebe’s reflection in the mirror.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Phoebe murmured. “I thought there would be more.”
“There usually is,” Mattie said. “I think most of the ladies around here wear three or more petticoats. It depends on the thickness of the dress and how clingy you want it to look. Did you want something to cover your top?”
Mattie indicated Phoebe’s neckline. Phoebe slid her eyes toward Mattie’s more generous proportions.
“I don’t think I need it. Nothing is showing.”
“Lucky you,” Mattie said. “Okay, let’s see, what else? Shoes and hair. I brought a pair of slippers for you, but I don’t know...you’re feet look bigger than mine.”
Phoebe eyed the small slippers and shook her head. “Too small. Lucky you! I’ll just have to wear my athletic shoes until I can round some slippers up. Do you think anyone will notice?”
Mattie chewed on her lip and eyed Phoebe’s feet. “If you sit down, yes. But maybe not if you stand up. We can probably trot into the village later and pick up some slippers, but I’m worried that Reggie’s father will be here this morning and what we should do about your shoes for now.”
“I’ll stand when he’s here.” Phoebe seated herself to tie her athletic shoes.
“Okay, well, we’ll figure that out when it happens. Sit down, and let’s do your hair,” Mattie said. “You’ll get the knack of doing it yourself in no time at all. It’s pretty simple, not like a Gibson or anything. Just pull it up and drop a few curls.”
She pulled Phoebe’s hair on top of her head and deftly twisted it into a bun before slipping a few pins in to secure it. She pulled a few curls out from around the temples.
“There! Lovely! You make a beautiful Georgian girl...just like you were born to it.”
They surveyed Phoebe again in the mirror. She did have to admit that the clothing suited her, and it was comfortable—at least for the moment. She didn’t want to think about the mechanics of going to the bathroom or climbing into a carriage, but for now, it felt fine.
“Pull your skirt out a bit so the tips of your sneakers don’t show,” Mattie said.
Phoebe complied. The stance was a bit awkward, but she thought she could manage for a while if she had to stand.
“Are you ready? It’s time for breakfast, and I want you to meet my little girl.”
They made their way downstairs, and Phoebe followed Mattie into a large room. Reggie wasn’t there, and Phoebe tried to hide her disappointment.
A long gleaming mahogany table dominated the high-ceilinged room. Olive-green silk drapes framed large windows and contrasted with the small-print yellow wallpaper. A fireplace on the opposite end of the room sported a white mantle and, above it, one of those large restful field-and-stream paintings depicted in pictorial essays of English country homes. Silver chafing dishes had been set up on one of the mahogany buffets placed along the wall.
“I know what you’re thinking. Ostentatious! But it’s home.” Mattie said as she followed Phoebe’s eyes around the massive room. “I don’t see the point in changing things just to change them. Besides, everything is really quite beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” Phoebe breathed. “Just like the pictures in those coffee-table books.”
“There you are, Reggie,” Mattie said, turning toward the entrance. “Good morning. You look well.”
Phoebe swung around to see Reggie enter the dining room. Dressed once again in Georgian-era clothing, he wore beige pantaloons, a forest green cutaway coat, a corn-colored waistcoat and a bright white shirt complete with cravat. Brown boots encased his lower legs. His dark hair gleamed as if he had just washed it. Phoebe’s heart thudded in her chest. William’s clothing fit Reggie very well, it seemed. Very well indeed.
Reggie bowed. “Mattie. Phoebe.”
He eyed Phoebe pointedly with a warm smile, and she dropped her eyes. She hoped he found her attractive.
“There you are, baby girl!” Mattie cooed as William carried a carrot-topped toddler into the room and set her down. She ran to her mother who scooped her up. A tiny clone of her mother, complete with a matching white dress, she was adorable.
“Mia, this is Miss Warner. And Uncle Reggie. This is Amelia.”
Mia Sinclair thrust out a hand and reached for Reggie’s cravat.
“No, no, baby,” Mattie said. “We don’t mess with the men’s cravats. Can’t do it.”
Mia, easily diverted, reached instead for his hair, and Reggie allowed her to pat his head in a kindly fashion.
“She will break many hearts, I f
ear,” Reggie said with a laugh. “I have not seen her for many months. She has grown much.”
“Yes, she has,” Mattie cooed. She handed Mia back to her father. A young blonde woman in a cap and pale blue dress had followed him in, and William handed the baby to her.
“Thanks, Jane. I think Reggie’s father is coming over this morning, so I’ll come get her in a little while.”
“Yes, mum,” Jane replied with a curtsey. The baby laughed and waved bye-bye to the room in general as Jane carried her out.
“So that’s my baby,” Mattie beamed.
“Good morning, Miss Warner. You look very well. Our era becomes you,” William said gallantly.
“Indeed it does,” Reggie said.
Phoebe blushed.
“Just help yourself to whatever you want. It’s a buffet,” Mattie said. She urged Phoebe forward and handed her a porcelain plate. Phoebe took a few things that looked recognizable and returned to the table with them. John poured tea, and another footman poured juice at the place settings. Phoebe suspected that William must be very, very wealthy.
She hesitated until Mattie pointed to a chair next to her. Reggie took the seat on Phoebe’s right.
Mattie dismissed the footmen with a smile “Thank you, John. We’ll serve ourselves.” She waited until they left before addressing William. “So, what time do you think Reggie’s father is coming? Did you send for some clothing for him as well?”
William pulled a pocket watch out of his waistcoat. “I should say quite soon. His message said he would wait upon at half past ten. And yes, I did direct his valet to send some of his things. I hope you do not think that too presumptuous of me, Reggie. You look splendid in my clothing, but I am sure you would much rather have your own things. I presume your valet will wish to attend you as well, and he will no doubt present himself at the earliest opportunity.”
Phoebe watched the two men with fascination. The intricacies of social customs and dictates—who did what or whom did what and when and how—was all quite mesmerizing to watch. She noted that her favorite books by I.C. Moon seemed to accurately depict the era so far, even to describing the interior furnishings of an English country estate similar to Ashton House.
